


Like A Red Red Rose

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: Fairytale - Fandom, Genderbend - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Romance, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:08:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived two individuals - a beauty and a beast. When their paths cross, any kind of romance between them looks impossible, but as time wears on, both characters learn to see beyond outward appearences and into the good that lies within the other's heart. But the course of true love never runs smooth in fairytales!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Red Red Rose

“Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a beautiful castle with her parents. The castle was made from white and pink marble and inside it was just as grand, with red velvet curtains and gold gilt painted banisters; and some say that inside there were room whose walls were covered with real gold leaf and jewels. 

The princess was ten years old and very fair; some say that her beauty outshone that of Helen of Troy, even though she was so young. She had hair the colour of the setting sun and beautiful eyes, blue and soft, like cornflowers. And she was dearly loved by her parents and all the servants of the castle. 

But, her misfortune was that she was very bold and loved exploring. Many was the time that she would slip away from her nanny or her maids during a garden walk and would escape to some far off field or a part of the forest she had not yet explored. And one day, after she had once again crept away from her guardians and left the sanctuary of the castle grounds, she came upon a great clearing. Beyond a shimmering lake, littered with stepping stones, she saw a magnificent black building, shaped like, well, shaped like a great black bird and fenced away by curling black steel gates that looked like brambles, twisted and spiked. 

“How beautiful!” whispered the princess in awe, for her imagination had been fired by this vision before her. Who lived here? A Duke? A lord? A princess sent to sleep for thousands of years? Boldly she skipped across the stepping stones of the lake and gazed up at the building. 

The garden beyond the fence was beautiful, like something from a fairytale, and though the fences had been designed to keep people out, the gates melted back at her touch and she stepped into the garden. The place seemed deserted; perhaps it had been abandoned like that ship, the Marie Celeste. The princess called out “Hello?” as loudly as she dared, but no one was about. 

In front of her was a magnificent rose bush. The young princess had always loved roses, for a very good reason, and she plucked the reddest of these blooms off the bush to smell. 

Immedietly, the gates began to swing shut behind her, but she ran very, very fast and was able to get through them in time. Breathing heavily, she turned, but all was still in the garden once more. Holding the flower still, she made her way back to the castle. 

Of course, she was scolded a little for sneaking off when her parents learned what had happened. 

“You must always stay where it is safe and not go wandering off on your own,” her mother told her. 

“Your mother’s quite right; you could have been hurt,” her father added. 

“I know,” and the young princess did feel quite humbled by their scolding, and she held up the flower. “But I found this in a garden; isn’t it beautiful?”

Both of her parents reached to take the rose from her, but two of its thorns suddenly embedded themselves into their fingers and both of them fell down into a deep sleep, as if dead, but no, they were alive. The princess gasped and dropped the rose. “Mama! Papa!”

That was when the doors of the castle blew open and there stood a man dressed all in black. Black feathers lined his cloak and a jewelled staff glimmered in one hand. For he was Raven, the most feared warlock of all time and it had been his garden the young princess had entered and taken the rose from. 

“So, there is the little thief!” he barked, pointing his staff at the princess.

The servants shrank back in terror but the princess stood up and turned to him defiantly. “I am no thief! What have you done to my parents?”

“I have done nothing! Their downfall is your own folly! And as to the question of theft, isn’t that a rose plucked from MY garden in your hands?”

The princess gasped and dropped the rose. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know -!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” snarled Raven, brandishing his staff. “I place a curse upon this castle! From now on all who live here will be adequate additions to the furnishings, unable to speak, only move! And as for you, little thief, from now on you will live your life as a hideous beast!”

Thus a cloud fell over the castle, and the servants turned into tables, clocks, paintings, statues, anything in a castle that isn’t meant to move, but they still could, and yet they were mute. As for the princess, well, in a burst of black magic, light brown fur began to sprout all over her body, her nails became claws, her teeth sharpened, her ears pointed, until...until all that was recognisable as the same princess were her clothes and her blue eyes, now misted with tears.

And so...”

Finn broke off and smiled. Kitty was sound asleep. She never lasted long enough to hear the end of that story, and yet she insisted that it was her favourite. She lay peacefully on her side, cuddling her favourite soft brown rabbit named Charlie under one arm, her fair hair spread across the pillow like a fan. Quietly, Finn closed the book, got to his feet, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Night night, Kitty,” he whispered and then he left the room quietly and went downstairs. 

The cottage they lived in was a small one, albeit it had an upstairs level, but it was all sort of squashed together, but Finn still loved living there, with his mother and father and little sister. His father was a glove maker and trading merchant and right now he and his wife were faraway at a fair where they hoped to be able to come home with enough money to buy a new plough. Their old one was, quite literally, on its last legs, and with harvest coming on soon, a new one was much needed. 

They were simple folk, but happy, in their small country village where everybody knew everybody. Neighbours were often popping by with food parcels and bits of gossip, even more so now that their parents were away. Finn was grateful for any help they had to offer, but he was perfectly capable of taking care of his little sister by himself. 

He checked the breadbin; the bread was still fresh and there was plenty of porridge, jam and tea left over from today. That took care of breakfast and lunch; what about dinner? He remembered they still had that ham that Enya had presented to them as if she were offering them gold on a plate, and plenty of fresh vegetables; yes, he’d be able to whip up something for them from that.

He sighed. Enya. Alright, so there was one thing that didn’t really make him very happy in this village. Enya, the mayor’s daughter, was quite pretty, admittedly, but she was very arrogant and it was no secret that she badly wanted him. But Finn didn’t want her. For a start she was very brash and loud and pretty self-centred, and being the Mayor’s only child, she was more masculine than feminine; she rode and hunted and shot, and Finn couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hunting innocent animals for bloodsports. The worrying thing was, though, because she was the Mayor’s daughter, she had power and what worried Finn most was that if he rejected her the next time she approached him, she could have her father kick their family out of town. 

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. It wasn’t worth worrying about now. He went around the house, checking everything was locked up and then, finally, witch a stretch, headed upstairs to bed himself. 

Lying back beneath the blankets, he tried to sleep, but it was no good. Try as he might, he just wasn’t tired. He picked up the book of fairytales he had been reading to Kitty. Well, if it worked for her, it could work for him. He opened the book and began to read again. 

“And so it seemed that the princess was doomed to remain a beast for all time. But then, one day, a handsome young man found his way to the castle. At first when he laid eyes upon the beast he was terrified, but when he learned her tragic tale, he took pity on her and became a friend to her.

Time wore on and on and two became as close as two friends can ever be. The princess began to feel happy again and suddenly it didn’t matter to her anymore that she was a beast, for the young man could see past her looks and into her heart. 

But she began to worry because she soon developed feelings for him and who could ever learn to love a beast?

“Am I hideous and beastly looking?” she asked him one day. “Please tell me the truth.”

To her surprise, the man took her hand. “You are in no way hideous and beastly,” he told her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

And then he kissed her. 

And his kiss broke the spell, for any curse can be broken by true love, and he truly loved her no matter what her form. And this also lifted the spell keeping her parents asleep and the enchanted objects of the castle turned back into their original servant forms once more. So, the princess and her young man were married and lived happily ever after.”

Finn smiled and closed his eyes, letting the book fall onto his chest. He had always loved that story, because it was so true. “Beauty is found within, not without, after all,” his mother had always reminded him whenever she read it to get him to sleep. 

If only Finn had known then how true that story was. For, miles and miles away, in an enchanted castle, surrounded by enchanted objects, a young cursed princess sat on her bed sobbing into her paws, certain that this curse could never be lifted. 

For who could ever learn to love a beast?


End file.
